Free Judicial Whispers by Caro Fraser Page A

and right.’
    ‘I see,’ murmured Rachel. She gazed after Felicity as she went back to her word processor, sighed, and picked up the telephone.
     
    Anthony reached Nichols & Co at six-thirty. The traffic had been slow, but he had whiled away the minutes in the taxi wondering whether he should ring up that Harriet girl this evening. She’d left messages twice on the answerphone, and he supposed he wasvaguely interested. He wasn’t sure if he could be bothered. She was a bit keen, and he preferred to have more of a challenge. Perhaps that business with Julia had made him cynical, but at least the approach he now adopted towards women meant that there was no danger of being hurt again, of becoming involved. Leo had taught him that you should simply enjoy whatever was on offer.
    He gave his name to the porter who had come on duty for the evening, and the porter rang up to Rachel’s room. Yes, she was still there, and would he please go up.
    Anthony felt a pang of guilt as he walked through the deserted offices, past the cleaners with their black plastic bin bags. Perhaps it was rather rude of him to leave it so late. Still, she’d waited.
    Rachel, as she sat in her office, was not quite sure why she had waited. She had tracked down the missing documents, which Felicity had erroneously enclosed with some other piece of mail to a different firm, but she had been unable to get them back that day. When she’d rung up Mr Cross to tell him so, he was out. It was only courteous to wait. And she was curious to see what kind of person she was instructing, this young man of whom everyone seemed to think so highly. He certainly hadn’t made much of an impression on her that afternoon, beyond one of overweening arrogance.
    She thought she detected the same arrogance in the smile he gave her as he stopped in her doorway. She was mistaken in this. Anthony was merely trying to suppress his amusement at realising how far adrift his speculations had been. The girl he was looking at fitted her voice entirely – and yet he had never imagined anyone like this.
    ‘Hello. Anthony Cross,’ he murmured, and leant forward to shake her hand.
    ‘How do you do? I was about to leave. I had begun to think you weren’t coming. Fortunately I had some work to finish.’
    Anthony slipped into a chair and gazed at her. ‘I’m very sorry,’ he said, sounding not in the least penitent. ‘The traffic was bad.’
    She nodded. She was conscious of a certain cold stiffness that had taken possession of her limbs. She knew this feeling, knew what it meant. There was a pause.
    ‘Anyway,’ said Anthony, and smiled, leaning one elbow on the arm of his chair and stroking his chin with his fingers. God, what a beautiful girl. He wondered if she ever took that frozen-fish expression off her face.
    ‘I’m very sorry,’ she said, rousing herself. ‘I couldn’t get hold of those documents this afternoon. I know where they are – my secretary sent them to Richards Butler by mistake – but I won’t have them until tomorrow.’
    ‘Not to worry,’ said Anthony easily. He shifted in his chair, taking in the pale, soft curve of her face, the dark brows and slender nose, the sleek black hair falling to her shoulders. And her mouth – such a mouth. He would like to see it smile. She didn’t look like she smiled a lot. And why did she have that wary expression in her eyes? He wanted to make her stand up, see what the rest of her was like. He glanced at his watch. ‘Why don’t we improve the hour and go for a glass of wine?’
    She lifted her chin. ‘I’m afraid I have a few things to do at home—’
    He waved this aside. ‘Come on. We have to discuss this case, anyway. Forget about whatever it is you have to do.’
    She looked down uncertainly, wishing this tension would pass from her limbs, wishing he wouldn’t smile in that way. She
must
try and get over this thing. She must make the effort. This would be safe enough. Just a drink. He was only